Why Did It Have To Be You?
by AddictiveBooker21
Summary: Some things don't exactly always go as planned. Things change as time passes. All we can do is to await the inevitable. And that's exactly what Clarissa Fray did when she met the brother she never thought she'd ever see. Sorry, but no Shadow World. Just plain, old Mundanes. Read on. .
1. Chapter 1

**Hey everyone. This is my first fanfic so I really hope you'll like it. ^_^**

* * *

**Prologue**

No, I never really forgot that night. In fact, I can still feel his fingers fluttering over my skin, the gentleness in the way that he handled her, how my legs hitched on his hips and held on for dear life. No one had ever held me like that, kissed me like that. It was all so sweet, so new, so. . _.wrong._

Wrong. I swear by the Angel, I did what I could to resist, but the evil voice inside my head was too strong. So that night, he became my first for so many things; my first real love, my first kiss, my first (I don't know how to put this gently, so I think you can figure that out), and he was. . .

My brother.

* * *

**CHAPTER 1:** _Five years ago. . ._

My brother and I weren't raised together, definitely not; our parents filed a divorced not long after I was born. We had our differences, my mother would always tell me dismissively every time I tried to ask. She could never be bothered, that woman. Especially if the question was about my dad. Of course I would hear bits and fragments of things.

Heading their separate ways, my dad took Jonathan to France and raised him there. Travelling all over the world while they were at it, probably. Honestly, I was jealous of my brother. He got to see the world. And me? I never went farther than Long Island. Not that I'm complaining with what my mother could give me, but maybe it would be nice to see anything other than New York for once in my life.

I've never seen him. Mom didn't have pictures of Jonathan, but she did have pictures of my father. She told me they looked alike, other than that, nothing. We never really discussed it, but I knew my mother loved them, missed them. Sometimes, I'd even hear her crying in her room.

I guess that was the reason things changed.

I was sixteen then. We were having an unusually quiet dinner that night with Luke, the man who has, in a way, taken up the role as my father. They were staring at their plates. More like my mom was staring at her plate while Luke _glared_ at his.

"Is something wrong?" I asked. My mother pursed her lips. "Mom?"

Silence.

I looked to Luke for help, but he was staring at my mom pointedly. We both knew what that look meant. _Tell her. Great._ What now? Let me tell you, my mother is the master of suspense. She just loves putting me on cliffhangers! And we all know how annoying that is.

Mom let out a weary sigh. "Alright." She shifted in her seat, switching her fierce gaze to me. "Clary, I hope you don't mind, but your father and I have been talking recently. And he suggested that Jonathan should take a little vacation for a little while."

"And?" I prodded.

"And I asked if he might want to spend it here. In New York. With us."

* * *

**So, what do you guys think? Sorry if it's so short. But, basically, it's a preview for the real thing. Any suggestions? Comments? Violent Reactions? Please review.**

**Till next time.**

**-AddictiveBooker21**


	2. Hide-and-Clap

**Hey, everyone. So sorry for the long wait, but exams here are brutal, and my teachers were burying me with projects.**

**Thanks for everyone who viewed this, favorited (no, I don't thinks that's an actual word), or followed my story. Thanks for you patience, and I hope you won't give up on this.****  
**

**And I forgot to put this up last time. . .**

**Disclaimer: I don't own the Mortal Instruments. I wish I did, but I don't.**

* * *

Chapter 2: Hide and Clap

The day was as dreary as it was hot. I was surprised that neither of us had collapsed yet. (But if one of us did, my money was definitely on Simon.) Mom left on an errand, as usual, leaving me with Simon, Alec and Isabelle in the apartment.

Outside, the sun mercilessly beat over Brooklyn. It was almost impossible to stand out there and not die of heat stroke. Okay, maybe I was exaggerating things, but it _was _hot enough that neither of us dared to suggest going outside.

We confined ourselves to my apartment's cramped living room instead. Thanks to our luck, the air-conditioning broke. And here we were, worthlessly sprawled all over the place. Alec was slumped on the wooden rocking chair, fanning himself with one of my mom's magazines. Isabelle, who had already taken off several layers of clothing, was rolling on the floor. Simon was taking up the space on the small couch, and I was lying on the counter, hugging the cool marble.

"It's so hot," Isabelle complained for the twentieth time.

"We know, Isabelle," I told her.

"And I am _so _bored," she groaned again.

"We all are, Izzy," Simon said. "We all are."

"Have any of you guys tried, oh I don't know, shutting up?" Alec suggested helpfully.

Isabelle ignored her brother. We all knew how easily agitated Alec was. "Somebody make some lemonade," she said.

"Go make your own lemonade," said Simon.

"Ugh. I'm too lazy." Moments later, Isabelle surprised us when she jerked upright. She jumped to her feet and smiled. "Why don't we watch a horror movie?"

"Blackout," was all I said. I'm sure she knew what that meant.

"How about we do our homework?" she suggested.

The three of us stared at her like she was insane. She stared back. And then we burst into fits of laughter. Alec and Simon were rolling with hysterics, and Isabelle was back on the floor with tears in her eyes. I _fell_ from the countertop, laughing. Let's all be honest. Not even a heatwave could make us actually _want _to do our homework.

"Okay, okay," Isabelle announced when the laughter died down. "Definitely not a possibility."

"Oh, I know," Simon said. "Let's play a game." It was creepy how much he sounded like Jigsaw when he said that.

"That's it!" Isabelle shrieked. "Let's play Hide and Clap." She grinned. "Who's in?" Two hands were raised. She narrowed her black eyes at me. "Oh, come on, Clary. Don't be such a killbuzz."

I crossed my arms over my chest. "No way. I still have 'The Conjuring' nightmares, and I am not planning to die if I happen to touch Bathsheba while I'm blindfolded."

"Please," Isabelle snorted. "Don't be so melodramatic, Clary. It's not like your apartment's haunted." I opened my mouth to retaliate, but she cut me off immediately. "If you don't play, I'll tell everyone what we did when we were eight."

And that, my dears, was how I ended up standing inside a closet with Simon tying an old scarf around my head.

"How come I'm it?" I asked him again.

He sighed, and I felt his breath on my neck. "Because you're awesome that way. Now start spinning."

When I heard the door slam shut behind him, I did as I was told. Ten spins later, my thoughts were in shambles. I steadied myself with the help of the walls. I felt for the doorknob, and when the cold metal touched my fingers, I yanked it open.

Trailing along the halls, I yelled, "First clap!"

Three claps resonated through the apartment. I followed the sound. If my calculations were correct, I was in the living room. Carefully stepping around where I thought the furniture might be, I trailed my way to the kitchen. I got there without a scratch. Not counting the inexplicably painful moment when my little toe hit the foot of the coffee table, that is. Those were the worst thirty seconds of my life.

"Second clap," I shouted again once I felt the countertop. Another three claps. All unmistakably coming from the living room. _I have you now._ I maneuvered my way out the kitchen. I felt the wool carpet under my feet again. I could hear someone's heavy breathing, and I knew I was where I had to be._  
_

"Third clap," I announced gleefully. They clapped. One of them was surely behind the front door. I bolted for it. As I drew closer, I smelled the sweet scent of vanilla perfume. _Isabelle. _I waved my hands in front of me.

And then the unexpected happened. The door swung open. And I was behind it. I was thrown down immediately. "Holy Shit, what the heck was that?" was the last thing I heard before I blacked out.

* * *

**Okay, that was a little short. And boring. But, alas, do not fret nor fear. I'm sure you all know who'll be on the next chapter, and then the fun shall begin.**

**If you're wondering who Jigsaw is, he's that clown who kills people in Saw. Jigsaw's appearance in this chapter was inspired by two gore-loving boys who we'll call Migs and JLO. And if you haven't seen the Conjuring yet, go. Go and look for it and watch it. Watch it! xD**

**I promise I'll make the following chapters longer. And I'll put more Jace. So much Jace. Oh, and Malec, too. Lots of Sizzy to add up some flavor. As for the Clace-shippers, you'll have your chance. 'Patience is a virtue', my darlings.**

**-AddictiveBooker21**


	3. S--t Happens

**Hey, hey. How's ya'll doing? I just finished reading Clockwork Princess, and it was _awesome._ Next book on the list, Uglies by Scott Westerfeld.**

**Anyway, I changed this to Third Person's POV. I hope you don't mind, but it's easier to write and whatnot. Bear with me.**

**Magnus Bane in the movie. He wasn't as glittery as I'd hoped :'(**

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Mortal Instruments. Nor do I own the characters. But I will someday. Not today. But someday. . . Okay, maybe not**.

* * *

Chapter 3: Sh*t Happens

Jocelyn was frantic, to say the least, when she found Clary unconscious behind a door. She'd gone on full-scale panic mode, which said a lot considering Clary's mother was always panicky when it came to her daughter's condition.

They had moved Clary on the couch. Her head was on Simon's lap, and he busied himself by stroking her bright hair. The anxiety had died down when Jonathan announced that they should "stop fussing over Clary like she was a china doll." Maryse, Isabelle and Alec's mom, had called then, telling the siblings to come home. They had excused themselves, and bid their goodbyes for the night. Jocelyn had disappeared into the kitchen with Luke while Jonathan and Simon stayed in the living room in case Clary woke up.

Not that Jonathan, Simon thought, actually cared whether Clary was alright or not. He might as well have been wishing for her to never wake up.

Simon didn't know he actually muttered the words out loud until Jace said, "She isn't the only victim here, you know. I, in fact, am also one." He had this annoying, chirpy, fake English accent. Simon bet he was only doing that to annoy the crap out of everyone.

"And who else would be a victim in this particular scenario, Lord Tumington?" Simon shot back, imitating Jonathan's accent.

"First of all," said Jonathan, unwavered, "I don't think Lord Tumington even exists. Secondly, I prefer you call me Jace. Unless you want something more appropriate." He shifted in his seat, while Simon remained still under the light weight of Clary's head. "Sweetheart, perhaps?" _Jonath-Jace_ rambled. "Or Hostuff would be quite fine. Love Crumpet? Well, that would be just wonderful. I am partly British, after all. Oh, I know! How about-"

"Jace would be alright," Simon interrupted. This boy, Simon thought, was so full of himself. Any possible future of them being friends ebbed away. There wasn't enough of that chance to begin with, but now, Simon's mind ruled out any sort of eventuality.

Simon never trusted him anyway-not when Clary had first told him about his vacation arrangements. Not when she showed him all those tabloid fragments that spoke of Valentine's success, as well as his son's luxurious life. And especially not when he walked through the apartment like he owned the place, and shanked a door at Clary. Two hours in and he already made the blood beneath Simon's skin boil. "Get back to the point."

"Well," Jace said, "lastly, she practically scared the bloody hell out of me when she attacked the door."

"Are you implying that Clary attacked the door on purpose?" spat Simon. He couldn't believe how arrogant this bastard was. It may have been mere child's play-a joke-to Jace, but Simon was compelled to lose his temper. It was a temptation he took without hesitation. He was about to answer back when a low moan escaped Clary's lips.

She stirred, drawing both the boys' attention to her. She groggily lifted her head without opening her eyes. "Will you guys," she muttered tiredly, "shut the hell up? Tiny person is trying to sleep." She gestured to herself. "And obviously, it's not possible to stay asleep with your constant, old-lady bickering. 'Kay?"

Clary fell back on Simon's lap. The boys stared, petrified. "My God," Simon said. "She's hallucinating."

Jace looked unfazed. "She'll be alright."

* * *

Isabelle sat motionlessly on the pew, staring blankly at the bare altar. It was strange, sitting there all alone. She never did get use to the quiet the resonated through the enclosed chapel's walls. Even after several years of having to hide there every time her parents fought.

She hated seeing them fight-which was all they did when Robert, her father, came home from Europe. It agitated her that Alec would just shake it off, thinking they'd just fix their problem like evey other married couple did.

But Alec didn't know what she knew. He didn't know the reality to their parents' relationship. How shaky they really were. How her father had an affair before their mother fell pregnant with Max. Isabelle knew they had considered divorce. But they had three young children to think about. They only stayed married now because of them.

But would they stay together in a few more years? Max was nine now, almost ten. With Alec eighteen, a legal adult, and being sixteen herself. As the years ticked by, so did the chances of her parents staying together. She knew it was futile now to try and get them back together, so why bother? It'll just crush like every other thing in her life did.

Isabelle heard the door opening, but she didn't turn. A cool gust brushed her legs, and she shivered. She closed her eyes, taking in the faint smell of asphalt that came from the busy streets of Manhattan outside. She felt someone sit next to her, and the smell of sandalwood replaced the city scent.

"How'd you find me?" Isabelle asked him. Her voice was raw, as if she'd been crying.

"Don't know," he whispered. "Just figured you'd be here somehow."

Isabelle opened her eyes and looked at her brother. His jet black hair was damp, and he'd changed into different clothes. The chapel was dark, and the streaks of daylight that came in through the stained windows emphasized the sharp angles of his cheekbones. The way he held himself now-shoulders hunched forward and the distant look in her eyes-made him seem tired, burdened. "They're still fighting, are they?"

Alec shook his head and pursed his lips.

"What is it, Alec?"

Her brother took a shaky breath. "Dad's going back to Europe."

"What?" Isabelle exclaimed. "But he's supposed to stay here for another two months."

"Yeah, I know," Alec interrupted. "Though, I think Dad would prefer telling you himself."

* * *

The Lightwood family gathered around the dinner table, quietly eating. Robert sat across Maryse, not exactly a good sign. Alec was next to his father. Isabelle and Max were nearest to their mother. Max was reading _manga_, as usual, while he picked on the food on his plate. Maryse gave him a disapproving glance.

"Please don't read on the table, Max," Maryse told her son.

Max looked up at her through his glasses. Isabelle swore he looked decades older than he really was when he did that. With a sigh, Max closed his book and set it on the table.

"Thank you," said Maryse.

They continued to eat in silence. Isabelle, exploding with curiosity, almost burst out with her questions, but her father beat her to it.

He cleared his throat, and straightened himself on his chair. "Listen," he said softly, but firmly. "I need to go back to Europe."

"What? Why?" Max cried. Isabelle, though she knew, couldn't hide her surprise.

"Mr. Morgenstern," Robert explained, "wants me to come back early."

_Bull_, Isabelle wanted to say, but didn't. "But that's not fair," she whined instead. "You've only been home for two days!"

"I know," Robert said. "I'm sorry, but it's either stay here and lose my job or do what he says."

And with that, Isabelle couldn't keep in her anger. She slammed her fork on her plate and stood up abruptly. "I lost my appetite," she announced. Then, ignoring her mother's protests, she stalked out and ran up to er room where she could cry in peace.

* * *

Clary stared at herself in the mirror. She was pale. So pale that her freckles stood out on her skin. Her head still hurt a little from the incident, but luckily there was no bruise. Just a pain. Speaking of pain, Jonathan Christopher Morgenstern was a major pain in the a-backside.

Simon had left when she woke up, saying he'd she her the next day. But not before he told her that he strongly disliked her brother. She didn't know what she was in for, though. Dinner was a mortifying affair. Especially with Jace, as he said he wanted them to call him, throwing in a rude or sarcastic comment every once in a while. Jocelyn would try to veer the topic, but Jace would always find a way to say exactly what he thought. Clary tried shooting him a glare multiple times, but it took no effect. She wanted to retort, but she felt drained of energy. She knew she would've been thoroughly ignored by her brother anyway. Who, by the way, she wasn't close with at all.

Honestly, Clary's first impression on her brother was quite different from her current thoughts. She'd thought he was an angel when she first woke up-a golden angel with gold hair and amber eyes. But he was the exact opposite. He may have looked like an angel, but he had the mouth and the attitude of the prince of Hell himself.

Jace Morgenstern was definitely no angel.

Clary sighed. She was exhausted. She didn't know why, but she didn't feel like doing anything else other than collapse on her bed.

She was reaching for the doorknob when the door flew open. She was wearing nothing but a towel. It would've been alright if it were her mother. But no. Shit happens to Clary Fray. On the other side of the door was Jace.

* * *

**Ha! Okay, that last part just came to me at the last minute. Totally worth it, though. And if you're wondering why I put Isabelle's family problems in there, just go with it. Trust me.**

**This chapter was inspired by: Everyone who viewed, reviewed, favorited, and followed this. Love you guys!**

**BTW, if you haven't yet, please review, follow, or favorite. Thank you so much! See you guys s****oon!**

**You guys rock! \\m/**

**-AddictiveBooker21 **


	4. The Boyfriend

**Hey, there. So. Apologies, excuses, and disclaimers will be found at the end of the story. ****On to the story. . .**

Chapter 4:

_She was reaching for the doorknob when the door flew open. She was wearing nothing but a towel. It would've been alright if it were her mother. But no. Shit happens to Clary Fray. On the other side of the door was Jace._

* * *

Jace looked at her Clary scrambled to shut the door, blushing furiously while she was at it. "Damn you, Jace, " she screamed. She kicked the door, as if to make a point. "Don't you know how to knock?"

Jace didn't answer. Not that Clary was expecting anything from him.

She yanked a spare towel out of the cabinet, and wrapped it around herself. She pushed the door aside, ducking past Jace. She was halfway to her room when Jace's amused voice filled the hall. "Hey, Fray?"

Clary stopped head on her tracks. "What?"

"How about using a longer towel next time?" Then he disappeared into the bathroom.

As her bedroom door closed behind her, she couldn't help, but wonder: was Jace _laughing?_

* * *

"What?" Clary and Jace demanded at the same time. For once they didn't glare at each other. They were too busy staring Jocelyn down.

"There is no way in hell you can get me to walk around in a public beach with this guy walking behind me," Clary said defiantly. She and her brother may have a slightly better relationship than the first time he arrived, but they weren't exactly the best of friends.

"We now know how terrible that idea is," Jace added in the same stubborn tone, "because I absolutely agree with Clary." True enough, they rarely agreed on anything.

Jocelyn scowled at her children. Obviously, they inherited her hard-headedness. Not exactly a good thing. There was only one way to settle the matter. "Clarissa Fray, you have two choices. Go to the beach with your brother or don't go at all. Your pick."

Clary was close to losing it. Jocelyn knew Clary hated it when people called her by her full name. And her blackmailing only pushed Clary's buttons. She opened her mouth, but shut it again. Not worth it.

Oh, come on. A beach party in Jones State Beach Park? With Simon, Isabelle, Jordan, and Maia? And the rest of St. Xavier's student body? On the last weekend of summer? Who would be insane enough to pass that off? Certainly not Clary.

Clary sighed. "Fine."

"Wait," Jace interrupted. He crossed his hands over his chest. "What's in it for me?"

Jocelyn stared at him. "Well, unless you want me to post your naked baby pictures online-"

"Actually, I think people would enjoy naked pictures of me-"

"Let me rephrase that," said their mother, smirking devilishly. Jace had to admit, she looked exactly like Clary when she did that. "I'll post baby pictures of you dressed in several embarrassing princesses' costumes."

Jace furrowed his eyebrows. "I have those?"

Jocelyn nodded happily. "Of course, you do. Not that anyone else knows about them. Yet."  
Jace opened his mouth to retaliate, thought about it, and closed it. He turned to Clary instead. "Will there be hot girls?" he asked his red-headed sister.

Clary rolled her emerald eyes. She was used to her brother's vanity. "Plenty who'd be vying for your love the moment their gazes set upon your glorious body."

Jace grinned. "Now that's how you negotiate with me, little sis." He ruffle Clary's hair affectionately, which she could only roll her eyes at. "We're leaving in an hour," he annonced.  
It was Jocelyn's turn to roll her eyes. "Jace, the party's tomorrow."

* * *

It was a peaceful ride to Jones Beach with only the two of them in the car.

They were quiet, and only the music from the stereo helped them fill the awkward silence. Nonetheless, it was a relaxing ride. The cool wind felt nice as it blew against her face. Her orange hair whipped behind her. From the corner of Jace's eye, they looked like flames. She had hair to match her attitude, he had to give her that. They were halfway to the beach now, both staring straight ahead. Clary was chewing on her nails, a habit she did subconsciously, he observed.

The city's tall buildings were replaced by trees, and the typically gray sky she was used to was a nice, calming blue. No longer were the streets paved with heavy traffic, just a few passing cyclists, It was different from Brooklyn. In a good way, that is. But somehow, Clary couldn't imagine herself living here. She was used to the busy streets, the frantic life in the city. In fact, she couldn't imagine growing up anywhere else.

"What's it like?" she asked suddenly. She felt unreasonably jittery, talking to him so casually.

Jace, realizing she was talking to him (no, duh), replied with, "What was what like?"

"To be raised by Valentine," she answered quietly. "I mean, Luke and Mom raised me for as long as I can remember, and I've never met our father. What was he like?"

Jace looked at her as if she'd punched him in the face, but he regained his composure rather quickly. "He's alright, I guess," he said, turning back to the road.

"Alright?" Clary prodded. "That's not exactly how you describe your own father."

Jace glanced at her. "And how am I supposed to define him, Ms. Parent-Describing-Expert?"

Clary shrugged. "More affectionately, I guess. Come on, you've lived with him for the past fourteen years, and 'he's alright, I guess' is the best you can come up with?"

"I don't live with Father," he replied, stunning Clary. "I go to a boarding school in London. I rarely see him now. We travel together sometimes, but I never stay with him too long."

"You go to a boarding school?" Clary repeated.

He nodded. "Since I was six. Father used to take me to trips every weekend and on holidays. Now it's just me and my tutor in the family manor in Germany on school breaks. It's a pretty long trip if you ask me and-"

Clary's eyes widened as it set in. "Manor?" she interrupted, completely shocked. She knew her father was rich, but a manor? "Did you just say family manor?"

Jace, clearly annoyed that he was cut off, said, "Yeah. Our family has two. The Fairchild's in England and the Morgenstern's up in Germany."

Clary could only gape at him. Two manors? In England and Germany? He has got to be joking.

"No, I'm not kidding," Jace said, looking away to hide his amused smile. "We don't use the Fairchild's manor, though. Father doesn't have the legal rights to it."

"Then who. . ."

"Oh, you don't know? I thought your mom had already told you." He looked genuinely surprised by the fact. "Your mom's last name was originally Fairchild, one of the highest-ranked families in Europe. After her parents, our grandparents, died, Father said she wanted to get rid of the family legacy. Get rid of everything. But Father stopped her. So all she did was change her last name to Fray and move to the States. She still owns everything, you know. She just has someone tend to the family business."

"Who I assume is Valentine," Clary finished. She simply couldn't believe it. Her mom inherited a company and never told her? Curiousity set in. Did Luke know, too? Then a wave of doubt. What else had Jocelyn kept from her?

"That's right," said Jace approvingly, drawing her from her thoughts. "You catch on fast, little sis."

"So basically. . ."

"You and I are heirs to the Fairchild-Morgenstern fortune? Yes." Well that wasn't exatly what she meant, but she bobbed her head anyway like that was what she wanted to hear all along. "That's why Father's going through all the trouble to shape me up. Tutoring me left and right, and making me tour the world." To be honest, Clary felt a twinge of disappointment. Why wasn't Jocelyn doing the same thing to her? Not that she wanted all that extra work, but still. . . "I'm here to present myself to Jocelyn," Jace added. "Not just as her son, but as the next owner of the entire company. Valentine is especially particular when it comes to the business."

Clary gawked at him. Valentine was strict? And business-crazed? Clary hadn't really expected him to be like that. Or maybe she just got too used to Luke's gentleness that she couldn't picture any other attitude from a father figure.

Neither of them spoke for the rest of the ride as the information sunk in. When they finally arrived at the beach, they were quiet. Clary stared at the dashboard of Jace's car.

"Listen, sis," Jace muttered. "I'm sorry for dropping that bomb on you. I should've let Jocelyn tell you-"

Clary was shaking her head, trying to find the light in all the information she just got. "Are you kidding me?" she said enthusiastically. "I just found out I'm part of a legendary European fortune! Just the more reason to celebrate!"

Jace frowned, gold eyes filled with concern, then he gave his sister a small smile. "Don't tell Jocelyn I told you, alright?" he said. "Son, business prodigy, or not, I know she won't hesitate to wring my neck."

"That aside," Clary said, "why don't we start hunting down Isabelle?"

* * *

"Isabelle!"

The beautiful girl clad in denim shorts and a blue bikini top under white see-through shirt whirled around, sending her hair whipping behind her, and saw Clary barrelling toward her. Jace followed his sister quietly. Isabelle couldn't help but notice how every girl stopped on their tracks to get a good look at Jace. Typical.

Sure, Isabelle also thought Jace was kinda' hot when he first graced them with his presence by shanking Clary with a door. Girl-reflexes. But after a while, he was just a guy who happened to be her best friend's brother. Besides, he'd started to grow on her. It would be awkward to seduce him. Not that he seemed to be the type one could seduce. Obviously, he had his interests elsewhere.

Clary was in front of Isabelle now, waving her tiny hand in front of Isabelle's face. "Isabelle Sophia Lightwood? You in there?"

"Hm?" Isabelle murmured, dragging herself out of her daze. "Oh, Clary-kins. You're here."  
"Obviously." Clary said, a strange giddiness in her voice.

Isabelle peeked around her, noting an awkward expression on Jace's face. "I see you brought our favorite love crumpet," she said, as if noticing him there for the first time. She grinned at the blond, which he returned with a small smirk.

"So, where's Si and the others?" the redhead asked.

"They're already over at the beach house," Isabelle answered solemnly. She walked off towards a folding chair where a little boy with sat reading a book. The siblings followed suit. "Hey, Max. We're leaving."

Isabelle's little brother glanced at her uninterestedly, pushing his too-big glasses up his nose. But upon seeing Clary behind his sister, his entire face lit up instantly. He'd always had a crush on Clary. Isabelle found it adorable. So did Clary. Max, however, found it no laughing matter. "Hi, Clary!" he greeted now. "How are you?"

"Just fine," Clary replied. She kneeled beside him, making him blush. "Watcha' reading?"

"Fairy Tail," Max said proudly. Clary'd taught him how to read manga last year, and (as expected) he absolutely loved it. It was yet another thing they had in common. The little nerds.

"Awesome." Clary grinned. "Maybe I can lend you a few issues some time. What chapter are you on?" She leaned toward him to inspect the manga, and Max blushed again.

Jace stifled a laugh. Loudly.

Max noticed the blond behind Isabelle for the first time, and tried to hide his grimace. "Who's he?"

Jace introduced himself. Max seemed to relax a little when he heard Clary's brother in his short introduction. _They all grow up so damn fast_, Isabelle thought amusingly.

"Yeah, so, we're leaving," Isabelle called, pulling Clary and Jace away from the boy.

"Wait, you're leaving your kid brother alone in a public beach?" Jace said incredulously as they wove through the sea of people.

"Yup," Isabelle nochalantly replied, popping the 'p' in the end. She felt Jace's golden gaze on the back of her skull. "Got a problem with that, Goldie?"

"He's, like, seven," Jace pointed out.

Isabelle snorted. "He's nine, for your information."

"And that changes things. . .how?"

"Relax, Goldie. He can take care of himself. 'Sides, my aunt lives half a block away. He knows his curfew." Seeing Jace's doubtful expression, she waved a slender hand at him. "He'll be fine. Since when did you start caring about little kids anyway?"

Jace shrugged.

They trekked further away from the dissipating crowd in silence. Clary treaded on the knee-deep water in her bare feet. Isabelle walked beside her, arms linked. Jace brought up the rear, skimming the shoreline leisurely. It was probably an hour before twilight, and most of the beach-goers had trickled away to the fair just a ten-minute walk away. Which was for the best, considering the worst-case scenarios Clary thought up.

Soon, a crowd of dancing people came to view. Music blared from a monstrous sound system, and Isabelle could feel her bones vibrating. Far on the water were partying teens; daring girls and guys competing via water-ski, the jocks from the football team with the cheerleaders in skimpy bikinis, the popular people hoisting each other up by the shoulders and having good ol' round of chicken fights, a few couples making out (gross) and a hell lot more of insanity as far as the eye could see. Dry land was just as festive; dancing bodies grinded against each other, beer was being passed around (knowing these people, beer was only the appetizer), people partying with their clichès.

Isabelle expertly wove through the crowd, zig-zagging at top speed, leaving behind a swoosh of black hair, while the siblings rushed to keep up with her. They passed a few tipsy people, slurring on about their summer. They won't last long, Clary thought automatically. It's a possibility. After all, if one wanted to survive a Verlac party 'til dawn, one had to have experience. Which those people obviously didn't have.

Isabelle mounted a set of wooden stairs (Jace and Clary following her and pointing out things) that led to a terrace overlooking the scene. They had set up a huge bonfire in the middle of the beach. Tiki torches surrounded the Verlac property, marking off the limits to the space's extent.

From their point of view, Isabelle saw the overly-celebratory clump of testosterone-filled, steroid-induced man-whores (or more commonly known as the football team) hooting at sluts' asses as they made their way toward where she and the siblings were standing.

If one were wondering, yes. Isabelle did hate those perverted bastards. No, she wasn't planning on sugarcoating that anytime soon. In fact, if they suddenly caught on fire and she had the last bottle of water on Earth, she'd drink it.

Isabelle coughed the bile out her throat, and snapped back into reality. Then, she saw him. His laugh was broken glass to her ears. He still hadn't spotted either of them, but Isabelle wasn't about to 'run into him' in this party.

"Come on," she murmured as she dragged Clary and Jace by their wrists. Judging by the oblivious look on her bestfriend's face, Clary probably hasn't seen _him_ yet. And Isabelle wasn't going to let her. At least, for the time being.

They slid through the double doors and into the kitchen. It wasn't as crowded there since the booze was outside. Thank God for that. Around the counter were Clary and Isabelle's closest friends. Curly-haired Maia Roberts gave them a huge smile without letting go of her boyfriend's arm whilst they sat down. Jordan Kyle didn't seem to mind the brunette resting her head on his massive shoulder as he gave the newcomers a 'hey'. Magnus Bane, dressed in his usual colorful outfit, wiggled his glittery fingers at them.

They'd all met Jace weeks ago, in the mall, and found him okay to hang out with. He fascinated them with all the travelling he did. And mainly because he didn't go hysteric when he found out that Alec was actually gay. "And here I thought were easy to read," the blonde had said.

Alec smiled at them now. Simon was glaring at Jace. Again. Clary caught his eye and tried to say _behave._ She just hoped he knew what she meant.

"Well," Magnus said suddenly as he stood, making all of them (except Jace) jump a little, "our work here is done. Isn't it, Alec?"

Magnus's boyfriend nodded. "Time for us to go."

"That's not fair," Isabelle whined, plopping down on the seat Magnus made vacant. "Come on. I just got here. Stay a little longer and live a little."

"Yea. . .no," said the sparkly Asian. "The deal was we get all you here safely."

"And since you're all here," Alec added, "we'll take our leave."

Magnus took Alec by the arm and they strode toward the door."Stay safe, don't drink and drive, you know the rest-blah, blah, blah." They met silence until the front door slammed shut.

"Ten bucks,"Jace proposed, "say they'll just be making out in Magnus's apartment."

"Took the words right outta my mouth," Maia agreed, slapping a ten-dollar bill on the counter.

"That's my girl," Jordan muttered.

Isabelle threw a banana from the fruit basket at each of them. "That's disgusting!" she squealed. "Right now, I'm getting terrible mental images." She downed ten dollars on the counter. "Be more descriptive, will you?" she said with a huge grin. "Your imaginations are dull."

They laughed. Except Simon. Clary was about to ask her best friend of he was okay, when someone noisily squeezed through the door. His black hair was the first to come to view. Then his handsome, though slightly off-kilter, features. Finally, his black eyes. When they cam to rest on Clary, he smiled a crooked smile that only she, out of everyone in the room, would like. Everyone's eyes instantly flew to Clary's slightly surprised expression. She sobered up instantly and grinned at him.

"Seb," she greeted. "Great p-"

Before she could finish, his lips were on hers. Everyone just had to look away. Even Jordan and Maia. Which said a lot since. . .never mind.

The two lovebirds broke off, finally noticing their nauseated audience.

"You smell like booze," Clary complained, straightening on her chair. Simon, who was right beside her, was still looking away.

"I know," Sebastian Verlac replied. "I'm taking a shower before hitting the beach. You wanna. . ."

Jace was between them in the blink of an eye. "No, she doesn't," he said sternly.

"And you are. . .?"

"Her brother." Jace jerked his finger at Clary. "Now, scram." Sebastian did just that. He turned to his sister who had a blush to match her hair. "I didn't know you had a boyfriend."

Clary rolled her eyes, despite herself. "Your my _brother_. You're not supposed to know."

They grew quiet as the siblings engaged a glaring competition.

"Yeah, well we're going swimming," Maia said to break the pestering silence. "Come with?"

"I'm coming," Clary and Simon said at the same time. They smiled. So the connection was still there.

They filed out of the house and down to the cool sand, leaving behind an annoyed Jace and a weary Isabelle. They just sat there, contemplating the other's expression. "We need to rptalk about this," Isabelle said, out of the blue.

"About what exactly?" Jace queried.

"Clary's boyfriend. He's not who she thinks he is."

* * *

**Du-dum-duuuuum! So who really is Sebastian Verlac? And why does Clary's friends seem to. . .dislike him? Hmmm. How's about checking out the next chapter I'll post as soon as this week? 'Sides, I owe you guys!**

***This originally had a different plot (bathroom incident) but I reconsidered it 'coz it was too. . .wrong.***

**Anyway, I give to you, my petty apologies and excuses:**

**1) I'm ****sorry! I was _SUPPOSED_****to post a month a go but nooo. My mom just had to ground me -_-**

**2) Lost the document multiple times while writing. My DocumentsToGo keep crashing at the precisely wrong time! Terrible, terrible luck.**

**3) School is a murderer. I'm sure there's no need for further explanation.**

**All in all, I'm sorry! Forgive me? Oh, and this chapter was meant to be waaaay longer, but it's already 3:30 AM here, classes start at 7:30 and I need to get up extra early since school's far. Sucks, I know. Wish I could give you a longer one, but really can't. My eyes are having an automatic shut down! Next chapter should be up by Tuesday if my teachers give me a break.**

**Disclaimer: Fairy Tail is the sole property of Hiro Mashima (Which I'm a hugantic fan of!). Cassie owns the Mortal Instruments and not me. . .sadly.**

**P. S. Have you heard about CofHF? Cassie's gonna kill SIX characters we all know by name. Don't believe me? Go check it out!**

**P. P. S. Today (or should I say yesterday), Sept. 29, is HERONSTAIRS DAY!**

**See ya'll soon! Questions? PM me. Don't hesitate to point out anything I've missed. I'm not some insane computer genius who can track you down and kill you if you point out my mistakes. Thanks! Please Favorite and Follow! Lhabb'ya!**

**~AddictiveBooker21**


	5. Everything Goes Wrong

**Hey! Thanks to everyone who recently followed the story. This chapter is especially for you :)))**

**Sorry for the long overdue chapter.**

**Disclaimer: Cassie Clare owns the characters and not me... But a girl can dream, can't she?**

* * *

Chapter 5: Everything Goes Wrong

_"Clary's boyfriend. He isn't who she thinks he is."_

* * *

Isabelle 's black eyes blazed in the flourescent light as she looked up at her bestfriend's brother. His golden orbs stared back, luminous like a cat's. Cold and deadly like a lion's.

It took a while for the new information to set in, but Jace didn't disappoint in his reaction. "Are you insane?" Jace practically screamed. Isabelle flinched again, but her face stayed neutral. "Your bestfriend's boyfriend tried to get lucky with you and other people and you didn't make her break it off?"

Isabelle, looking agitated, thwacked his head with the banana. "What part of 'Clary Fray is stubborn as hell and no one can tell her what to do,' don't you get?"

"First of all, would you please stop whacking me with that?" Jace said, swiping the banana from Isabelle and putting the poor thing back on the fruit basket. "Second, why didn't you just tell Clary everything?"

"It would kill her to know," Isabelle shot back, scowling. "You saw how she looked at him. She loves him."

"Well, what if he breaks her heart? And then finds out you knew all along?" Jace challenged. "What will happen then?"

"It'll kill her even more," Isabelle replied quietly.

"And can you handle that?" Jace prodded.

Isabelle shook her head. "Of course I can't. She's-Where are you going?"

Jace had stood up, a determined look on his face. He threw the door open, and pop music and drunken laughter poured in. "Don't try to stop me from protecting my sister." And with that, he slammed the door close, muffling the party sounds.

Isabelle, realizing what she'd done, relaxed on her seat. "Who said I was stopping anyone?"

* * *

Clary had wandered off on her own a little later. It had only been half an hour since they descended over the party, and Maia was already drunk as hell. Not surprisingly. Sebastian never failed to have the strongest alcohol in his parties. Somewhere around her fifth shot, Maia was already doing very. . un-Maia-like things. Jordan had to drag her up to the guest bedroom, where he probably locked her in to keep her spontaneity tame.

Simon had gone AWOL on her, probably looking for Eric, a friend and one of his bandmates. Yes, Simon Lewis is in a band. And, no, no one in the band can play an instrument. Well, that's a little too harsh. Simon's okay with an electric guitar. But then again, out of all the times Clary had stuck around in band practice, she had never actually heard them play a song.

Wait. There was that one time. . . No. That ear-deafening monstrosity does not deserve to be called a song. Ever.

She found herself standing by a makeshift bar near the DJ, giving up all hope on looking for anyone and resolving to sipping a pina colada the bartender served her. Hopefully, it wasn't as strong as anything Maia had tonight. She watched the dancers spin around the bonfire. The music was as loud as ever, pouring out the speakers. The starry night was drowned out by the bonfire's glare mixed with the strobe lights set up on the terrace. She tugged her thin blouse tighter around her body. Where was Sebastian? Wouldn't he be missing her after not seeing each other for a month?

From the corner of her eye, she saw a figure drifting toward her. She smiled, thinking it would be the boyfriend she dearly missed. But it wasn't. Unless Sebastian found a way to dye his hair a nice golden-blond in thirty minutes. Otherwise, no. It was none other than Jace. And a few trailing gazes from skanks on the dancefloor.

Jace leaned on the counter beside her, his shoulders slumped ever- so slightly. "So. . . Care to tell me why the wee fact that you have a boyfriend slipped your mind?"

"Like I said, you're my brother. You can't expect me to prattle on and on about every single thing that goes on in my life."

Goldie scoffed. "Of course, I don't . Do you think I'd bother listening to anything that doesn't have me in it? Be realistic, sis."

Clary playfully hit him on his shoulder. "And I here I thought you'd turned less arrogant."

He feigned a hurt expression. "Me? Lose all my arrogance in a month in New York? Is that possible? What would I do then?"

She shrugged, grinning.

"Still, it would have been highly appreciated if my little migdet of a sister," she glared menacingly, but playfully, "told me she had a testosterone-raged douchebag of a boyfriend-"

"What?" Clary was genuinely taken aback. The grin faltered instantly. They only met thirty minutes ago. . . Realization set in, and pure anger welled inside of her. "Isabelle got to you, hadn't she?"

He didn't even bother to cover it up. "Break up with Verlac. He's in it for the sex, and he'll dump you if you refuse him. Or when he's done with you. Either way, he'll hurt you way in there." He poked her chest.

Oh, so he's outspoken and straight-forward. Yippie. "Are you serious?" she spat, swatting his hand away and detaching herself from the bar, and narrowed her eyes at him. "Can't you people at least try to have a proper conversation with him before deciding you hate his guts? I mean, come on. Is really impossible to like someone I'm dating? I put up with all the girls you make out with in the corner, Simon's terrible taste in women, and Isabelle's dating dilemma, Maia and Jordan's indecipherable relationship, but I can't have a love life of my own? Some friends you all are. Just because Isabelle tells you something doesn't mean it's completely true."

"So you're saying I shouldn't trust your bestfriend?" Jace asked, eyes wide. He straightened himself, standing directly in front of her.

"No, I didn't say that," Clary growled defensively. She craned her neck to meet his golden gaze head-on. They were as fierce and determined as hers. Damn, he really was her brother. "What I mean is that she doesn't know how to keep some of her opinions about my boyfriend to herself. She just has to go on and tell everyone that he's actually a douche, when he's not!"

"He is one heck of a douche, Clarissa." His voice grew angrier. He spat her name like it stung his mouth. "He's the devil's spawn in a French boy's body, and I ain't lettin' him lay a perverted finger on you. Do you think Isabelle would lie about something like this? She doesn't want you to get hurt, and there you go waltzing into the bastard's trap, thinking he's unconditionally in love with you!"

"He is in love with me, like I am with him!" By this time, several people were already staring at them, eavesdropping in their fight. Clary's shouting attracted more onlookers, some actually trying to figure out what they were talking about and others just staring at Jace. Mostly the female population.

"I never knew you were so delusional, Clary," Jace said, teeth clenched together. "You're smarter than this, so stop acting like a lovesick puppy, and wake up. Or would you like it better if I drenched your sorry ass with ice cold water? Wake the hell up and stop being a fucking idiot!"

Clary's eyes widened. As soon as he realized what he said, he started to apologize. He reached out to her, his eyes a flurry of shock, guilt and regret.

"Save it." Clary swiveled away from his grasp, and trudged away from him. He just stood there, gaping and cursing at himself.

* * *

The full moon reflected on the water that lapped around her waist, tickling her bare skin. A rush of cold air went through the water, running up her spine, making her shiver. Sure, she was basically freezing her toes off, being half-drenched and all, and obviously she'd get the flu soon enough, but it was worth not spending her time on dry land.

Verlac's house was a kilometer away from a residential home, and the nearest establishment was a strip bar called Devil's Tavern. So, no, no one would be demanding for them to turn down the music any time soon. And she wasn't about to go waltzing into the dancefloor by herself in a party Sebastian was hosting. Not a damn chance. She'd definitely learned her lesson there.

She didn't even know why she came in the first place. She hated Verlac. She hated his guts. Heck, if she were given a chance to torture him, she'd do it without much mercy or regret. In fact, she'd most definitely enjoy it. For a brief moment, she imagined Sebastian writhing in pain as she relentlessly kicked him with a gorgeous pair of Gucci stillettos. What a waste of perfectly good shoes, she thought.

Behind her, the party was still at full blast, showing no signs of trickling away. She closed her eyes, trying to block out everything-the obnoxious drunks laughing far on the shore, the freezing water, her thoughts of her bestfriend's fragility when it came to her bastard of a boyfriend, the sound of her parents arguing in her head.

But she just couldn't.

She could still hear everything. Above all, she could distinctly hear Clary's sobbing deep in the recesses of her mind. Her heart sank. Why didn't she just tell her when she have the chance? Explain everything to her instead of leaving her puzzling over her hostility towards Verlac.

Isabelle sighed. She just wanted to forget everything. Jace'll handle her. Hopefully. It'll be fine, she thought. It'll all be okay soon.

Then she dove .

Water rose all around her, enveloping her, pulling her into the darkness. She liked night-swimming. She felt more relaxed when she knew no one could see her. She paddled further until she ran out of breath. Isabelle stopped, letting her body sink, before pushing herself upright. And she was swallowed by feet struggled to feel the bottom, but found none. Her heart was racing as she clawed for the surface, but to no avail. Her eyes flew wide open. The salt stung her eyeballs instantly, but they remained ajar.

She was scared to death. What the hell was happening? Had it suddenly gone high tide while she was swimming? It hadn't been that long, had it? She saw black, and the ocassional green moss that clung to the rocks far below her. Her head was spinning, and she couldn't breathe. Her black hair floated around her like a puff of smoke rising to the surface.

She was losing her breath quickly, and it was ony a matter of time before she would start gasping for oxygen. She gathered her wits in her light-headed state, trying to calm herself as she bent her kness against the sea's current, positioning her hands above her head like he had shown her, and using the remains of her strength, she leaped.

And was pushed back into the water without as much of a sniff of air. She felt something smooth and silky rub against her ankle. She yanked her foot up. It was seaweed. She pulled at it, but it had wound to her leg with a grip like a vice. She cussed inwardly. She didn't have time for this.

When she had finally freed herself from the plant, she was exhausted and breathless. For a clump of alga, that seaweed was strong.

She snapped back to reality as she realized her head was dizzy. She kicked, paddled, and clawed for the surface. She gasped for air when she couldn't take it, forgetting where she was, and swallowed a gallon of seawater. She choked, tasting the pungent saltiness that burned her throat. She thrashed, propelling herself upwards, and utterly failing.

It was too late. She didn't have a single breath inside of her. She felt herself slipping into the darkness. . .

* * *

It's not like Jace never insulted Clary or anything. Come on, he shanked her with a door (that was one fact she'd never overlook) and said it was her fault she crashed into the door. He'd bad-mouthed her a handful of times the past month. But he'd never been as serious, or angry, as he was on that bar.

The way his face twisted as he told her to break up with Sebastian haunted her. He was not joking at all. Dead serious, she liked to call it. But he wasn't the only one angry about this. His anger fueled hers, practically. The emotions raged inside of her like wildfire.

She hated that Isabelle did this-telling all their friends how much of a bastard Sebastian is. She hated that they even believed her. That they would automatically believe her like she was some sole goddess. Well, tough shit.

Clary kicked a pebble out of her way, channeling all the anger she felt towards Jace and Isabelle into the blow. It wasn't really that much, considering the low amount of energy she had left, but just enough that the pebble skipped about ten meters ahead of her, skimming the sand.

That's when she realized she wasn't alone.

There were three of them, each easily towering over her by two feet. She didn't have to look twice to tell they were costumers from the Devil Tavern. With their unsteady gait and obnoxiously loud voices, it wasn't hard to guess. She wished she heard their slurring earlier, so that she'd have the chance to avoid them completely.

Their long, dangling shilouettes brought chills up and down Clary's spine. She wasn't dumb. She knew she had to disappear without drawing attention to herself.

She whirled on her heel swiftly, holding on to her blouse like it was a lifeline. Her heart raced furiously in her chest, threatening to leap out soon enough. She could hear her blood thundering in her ears as she scurried back to the direction where she came.

But, apparently, she was walking too slow.

One of the men hollered at her. She hastened her pace. She could hear them scrambling after her. They ran faster, and she ran too. Soon, her pursuiters' footsteps faded. When she was positive that they were nowhere to be seen, she slowed to a jog. Clary let out a breath she didn't know she was holding. Her heartbeat creeped back into its normal speed as she walked.

The sound of the water meeting the shore sliced through the hair-raising silence. She searched for signs of the party-music, laughter, the smell of smoke from the bonfire-and found none. Had she walked that far? Wow, she must have been angrier than she thought.

Her train of thought derailed as a large hand clamped on her shoulder. The reeking smell of alcohol left her no hope that it would be Jace or Simon. She shook her shoulder, but her captor had a strong hold on her.

"Where do you think you're going, pretty lady?" he whispered. Clary shivered. Not from the cold, but the putrid smell of his breath. "You can't just get away after ignoring us."

"Please, just leave me alone," she muttered. Clary hurried away, but he griped her shoulder tighter. Her heart raced. She spared a glance at him. He was cute, sure. Short brown hair, innocent face. But that purity in his face was ruined by the perilous glint in his eyes. She didn't like it,

"Trying to run again?" said the other man. He grinned down at her, showing off perfectly white teeth. He was boy-next-door handsome, with his soft blond hair and perfect jawline, Clary had to admit, but he had an aura of danger all over him. He clicked his tongue and grabbed her waist. "You should know better."

Clary gritted her teeth. She slapped away both their hands and ran, only to bump into a solid wall of flesh.

"I've always wanted to try redheads," this one murmured thoughfully as he twirled her hair on his finger. He was the oldest-looking between all three of them. And possibly the strongest.

"Don't touch me," Clary snapped. She smacked his hand away, stopping herself from quivering in fear.

His features-that could possibly pass off as handsome-contorted wryly. He grabbed Clary's arm. "Again with the declining. Come with us and I'll make you scream my name over and over, girlie." He added a wink that was supposed to be seductive, but just made Clary want to puke all those pina coladas she drank.

"Yeah, no thanks," she said, jerking her arm away from him. She whirled around and started to walk.

But the man was clearly losing his patience. He grabbed her shoulders, and spun her around. She yelped as he grabbed a fistful of her orange hair. "Listen up, girlie. I heard reds were feisty and I want to see it for myself." He traced her jawline tenderly, leaving goosebumps where his skin touched hers. "So, what'll it be? The easy way or the hard way?"

She spat spittle at his sorry face. "Neither."

He clenched his teeth and wiped off the saliva of his face. "Hard way, it is. Mind if I take her?" he asked his companions.

"All yours, Billy," boy-next-door said lazily, almost disappointedly. He grabbed the brown-haired boy by the collar and they disappeared somewhere in the darkness.

"Finally, some alone time." Billy turned his attention back to her, grinning like a predator before it pounced on its prey. He crashed his lips to hers, and she tasted the alcohol immediately. She pushed his chest away to no avail. He disgusted her even more when he pried her lips open with his slimy tongue. It slipped into her mouth, exploring, sliding over her teeth, grinding against her tongue. She couldn't shove him off her-he was too strong.

His fingers moved down to unbutton her denim shorts. He kneeled on her legs to keep her from thrasing. He moaned, clearly enjoying himself. Oh, God. Out of all the people in this damn beach, why her? Why couldn't it have been one of those drunk whores from the cheerleading team who would have gladly let these bastards gang bang them? Dammit, why did she have to stalk out of the party's perimeter where she was completely safe? Surrounded by intoxicated morons, but safe.

The bastard lifted her blouse, licking her stomach. He held her arms as she started to scream, he crashed his lips down to hers again. His tongue slipped out again, and she bit down on his tongue. Hard.

He howled in agony. She shrunk back, but that didn't help her from avoiding the back of his hand.

Clary's head whipped back, but she refused to give him the satisfaction of crumpling to the ground. Instead, she reached for his shoulders. He reluctantly let her, thinking she was being submissive, but he didn't expect her to bring her knee up to his groin. He doubled over, clutching his jewels. She scrambled away from him, but he caught her leg, tripping her onto the silvery sand.

"Not so fast, bitch," he growled. He crawled over her and hovered above her. The hell? That had been a good strike to where it really hurt. It was suppsed to buy her time. Was this guy even human? Two seconds of writhing in pain, then back to normal? It was an injustice! "Don't think you'll get away that easily."

He raised the back of his hand ready to strike at her. Clary squeezed her eyes shut, knowing there was no way she could take him on on her own.

_Crack_.

She waited for the pain, but none came.

Then, _thump_.

She felt Billy's weight leave her body. The stinging she had anticipated was not there. Her eyes flew open, and she saw a flash of gold. Jace. She was sure of it. Clary's body convulsed when she tried to move. She could hear grunts and groans from the boys, a fist landing on skin, another sickening crack. She couldn't move. But she was wide awake, conscious, but not having the least bit of will to stand. She felt pitifully weak. And she was.

She felt arms go around her. She flinched as rough, warm skin touched her bare thighs and lifted her off the ground. She banged weakly against his chest, thinking it was that bastard, but it was Jace's gruff and ferocious voice that told her off. Immediately, her hands went limp on her sides.

"Jace?" she whispered. Her voice was hoarse, trembling and unsteady.

"What?" he answered.

"Please, just take me home..."

* * *

**Wadd'ya think? Any predictions? Thoughts, maybe? Yes, well, your reviews, favorites and follows are highly appreciated. I hope you don't get tired of waiting for my updates. Next one's already in progress, and I can't give an approximate date for when I'll post.**

**If I got got something wrong in this chapter, do not hesitate to tell me. :))**

**Anyway, till next time. . .**

**~AddictiveBooker21**


End file.
